


Your New Normal

by Wreck



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wreck/pseuds/Wreck
Summary: According to the Rules of the North America Supernatural Convention, any human who, at any age, is changed into any supernatural species classified as a predator is required to live with a chaperone for at least 6 months.Stiles is turned into a werewolf without his consent, and Peter is volunteered to be his chaperone and make sure he is fully in control of his new powers.





	Your New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> This is for rainbowstiles.tumblr.com who said she was into creature Stiles and protective Peter at the moment. I have to admit I had a few false starts with this one, but then it all just sort of came to me at once. I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> This has not been beata'd; all mistakes are mine (and I will fix them as I see them)

“No. Absolutely not, Talia. There is nothing you could possibly say to compel me to agree to this,” Peter says into the phone.

“It’s funny that you think that I need you to agree,” Talia replies.

“I swear to god, Talia––”

“Peter,” Talia says in her Alpha voice, effectively cutting him off. “You know the law. You know we would have to do something, regardless. But he’s the Sheriff’s son, and Sheriff Stilinski has always been an ally to us.”

Peter sighs. “I know all of that, but––”

“And,” Talia continues, steamrolling right over him, “you are my only option. Laura would be ideal, but she’s still in New York, and his father wants him nearby. And I think Derek would obviously just make a mess of things.”

“Obviously,” Peter agrees.

“You didn’t need to agree with me so quickly on that point,” Tail scolds. “Heaven knows I love Derek to death, but he just isn’t cut out for this type of thing.”

“I’m not sure that I am either,” Peter supplies.

Talia lets out a frustrated breath. “Peter.”

“Talia.”

“You have better control than any other werewolf I’ve ever met, save maybe our father; you have an encyclopedic knowledge of werewolf culture and law, and you’ve always been the one that the kids turn to when they are in trouble, because you will always protect them.”

“Yes, I agree, I am wonderful.”

“I knew you would come around,” Taila says.

Peter scrubs a hand over his face and sighs again. “The sheriff’s kid, you said? Isn’t he the one that was always sneaking into the woods at night with that dopey friend of his?”

Talia laughs a little at this. “He’s hardly a kid anymore, Peter. He turned twenty-three this year. And that friend he used to run around with is Scott McCall.”

“Jesus, I am getting old if he’s already twenty-three.”

“Thirty-one is hardly old, my dear younger brother,” Talia snaps, and Peter has to suppress a snide remark about the age difference between them.

“Wait, did you say Scott McCall?”

“So you are paying attention,” Taila says. “Yes, Scott McCall is his best friend.”

“Well, why doesn’t Scott––”

“You know why,” Taila says, annoyed now. “He’s not a born wolf, Peter. Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re better than that.”

Peter sighs again. “When does he arrive?”

“Tuesday,” Talia says, and Peter can hear the smug smile in her voice.

“Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll do it for now, but––and this is a big but, Talia––you will find someone more suitable and this will only be temporary.”

“Thank you, Peter. We’ll expect you on Tuesday at the house,” Talia says, and then hangs up before Peter can confirm.

It’s only later, as Peter is pulling fresh linens out for the spare room that he realizes that Talia never acknowledged his request that this situation will only be temporary.

  
***  


According to the Rules of the North America Supernatural Convention, any human who, at any age, is changed into any supernatural species classified as a predator is required to live with a chaperone for at least 6 months. The goal of this ruling is to reduce the number of people who lose control, and to prevent the intervention from the Official Guild of Hunters.

As such, when someone is turned, they are required to report to the North America Supernatural Counsel, who in turn, will contact the local Alpha, or Coven Leader, or Faerie Queen. It is up to them to find an appropriate chaperone for the newly supernatural. And this is not always an easy task; the chaperone has to be a born supernatural creature in good standing with their community, and who, themselves, has impeccable control.

One of the arguments against the ruling was that it was unfairly prejudiced against turned creatures, favoring people who were born supernatural. Supporters, however, were quick to point out that anyone growing up in a supernatural family got way more than 6 months supervision.

Very occasionally a causality would arise when a turned creature lost control and killed their chaperone, but these were few and far between, and generally the program worked well.

And that’s how, after an unfortunate incident outside of a bar, Stiles Stilinski finds himself sitting in Alpha Hale’s office on a Tuesday morning when he should be back on campus. His dad is staring stoically ahead and has been taking the past 48 hours of adjusting to the the whole my-son-is-now-a-werewolf thing in stride, but he’s always had a good relationship with Alpha Hale, and Stiles figures that that alone is reassuring to him.

“Well, Stiles, it certainly has been a long time,” Talia says as she enters her office followed closely by another man. “Sheriff,” she says warmly and extends her hand to both Stiles and his dad.

“Alpha Hale,” Stiles says, remembering at the last second to great her formally.

“Please, call me Talia,” she says taking a seat behind her desk. “I read the incident report, and I’m so sorry that this happened to you, especially since it happened without your consent. However, I want you to know that the Hale Pack is here for you, and we are committed to making this transition as smooth as possible.”

Stiles just nods, worried that if he opens his mouth he’s going to say something he will regret.

“Now, you’re father has requested that you remain close to home during this period, which is a very common request. And given what I understand about your workload, it would be best to just take this time to focus on your new normal.”

Stiles is suddenly very aware of what is about to happen. He knew that he was going to be assigned a chaperone, someone to help him control this new part of himself, but the possibility of not returning to school hadn’t really occurred to him.

A baffled “what” is all he manages before Talia continues, “The important thing is to make you comfortable.”

“You make it sound like I’m dying,” Stiles says under his breath, forgetting momentarily about werewolf hearing.

His eyes snap up as he hears a snort of suppressed laughter, and Stiles realizes that it’s coming from the man who is still standing near Talia’s desk; only now he’s leaning against the wall and looking way less formal than he did when he walked in. Stiles furrows his brow, but turns his attention back to Talia, who is apologising for sounding so morbid.

“That wasn’t my intention at all!” she insists. “I just wanted you to know that, yes, this is the law, but it doesn’t mean the experience has to be painful. We want you to get the best support, but also figure out what will change or, maybe remain the same, in your life now that you are a werewolf.”

Stiles isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he just nods.

Talia gets up from behind her desk and comes around to the front, leaning against it so she’s closer to the Stilinski's. “Look, Stiles, I’ve known your parents for a long time. Your mother and I went to high school together, and John and I still work together all the time. I am being sincere when I say that I will do everything in my power to make this easy for you.”

Stiles is blindsided by the mention of his mother, and he feels like any control he might have had during this meeting has officially slipped away. He’s aware that his dad and Talia are having some sort of conversation next to him, but he’s also a million miles away and hearing everything all at once.

He is suddenly snapped back to reality when he hears his name, “Stiles, you remember my youngest brother, Peter?” Talia asks.

Stiles looks up and the man near the door is smirking at him. That’s Peter Hale? Stiles has some vague memories of an older, cooler kid when he used to come over and play with Cora and Derek, but it’s been so long that he would have never recognized Peter had he bumped into him on the street.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you again,” Peter says. He doesn’t move from his place near the wall, but his smirk does widen into a smile.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

“Peter will be your chaperone,” Talia announces. “His control is impeccable, and in the Hale Pack he has always been the best resources for the younger pups. I wouldn’t trust you with anyone else.”

John is nodding his approval, but all Stiles can remember is the summer that a, maybe, 16-year-old Peter froze everyone’s shoes while on a camping trip and then set off fireworks in the middle of the night

Peter must see something on Stiles’ face because the smirk returns for just a second before he schools his expression back into a smile.

  
***

When they arrive at Peter’s apartment, Stiles disappears into his new room and doesn’t remerge until Peter goes to bed that night.

The drive from the Hale house involved some of the most aggressive silence that Peter has ever witnessed. If he didn’t know that Stiles was in his 20s, he would peg him at 16 on that drive alone. Eventually, Peter gave up trying to engage Stiles, and instead explained how the first few days would go, and that they would need to decide what to do for the first full moon later that month. Stiles remained impressively stone faced during the whole one sided conversation.

Peter honestly doesn’t mind. He knows that Stiles didn’t ask for this. He can’t imagine being pulled from his life and plopped into the care of someone he only peripherally knows. And he can’t even imagine what it’s like adjusting to werewolf senses for the first time as an adult.

So, he lets Stiles be for the first few days. They occasionally pass in the hall between Stiles’ room and the bathroom, but Peter gives him his space.

On Friday morning the hunger must outweigh Stiles stubbornness enough that he ventures into the kitchen while Peter is making coffee.

“Don’t you have a job? Why are you always here,” Stiles says.

Peter has to stifle a laugh at the fact that this is the first thing that Stiles has said to him since he arrived.

“I do, in fact, have a job,” Peter confirms. “I am a Lawyer. But, I am also on Chaperone Leave for the next month to help get you settled before I go back to work part time while you are here. Coffee?” he finishes holding up the coffee pot to Stiles.

“Oh, um, sure,” Stiles says, accepting the cup Peter pour for him. He’s looking around the kitchen, and Peter assumes he must be starving.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Peter asks, moving towards the fridge.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” Stiles says suddenly.

Peter stops short. “What?”

“You don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me,” Stiles repeats. “Look, dude, I don’t want to be here, you don’t want me here, let’s do what we need to do and both go back to our lives.”

Peter generally prides himself on always being able to read whoever he is talking to, it’s part of what makes him a good lawyer. But he is completely thrown by Stiles. He also knows that Stiles is also more or less right. He did not volunteer for this job any more than Stiles asked for the bite.

“Is there anything I shouldn’t eat?” Stiles says before Peter can even come up with a proper response. “I’ll just help myself and stay out of your way for the most part. I know we have, like, werewolf trainings, or whatever, so just let me know where to be and when, and I’ll be there, but other than that…” he trails off.

Peter sighs. “Fine. You’ll be in the kitchen for dinner at 6:30 every night, that’s where the history and culture lessons will occur. And then every weekday at 10am, we’ll work on the physical elements: control, shifting, etc.”

“Great,” Stiles mutters.

Peter grabs his coffee mug, heads towards his office and calls over his shoulder, “And don’t touch the cheese plate. I’m saving that.”

  
***

Learning to suppress sounds and smells, and control his breathing is neither interesting nor fun, and Peter is demanding when it comes to mastering his senses. Stiles hasn’t had his first full moon shift yet, so they haven’t even started in on things like controlling his eyes or fangs or claws. Instead it seems like hours of Peter asking him to identify a scent from across the house, or block out a specific sound. It’s exhausting, and Stiles isn’t doing anything but sitting there.

Despite himself, Stiles finds the werewolf history and culture lessons profoundly interesting. It really shouldn’t be surprising; after his initial research into werewolves when Scott was turned in high school, Stiles had developed a passion for supernatural history and lore, and was in the middle of his masters program for the same when he was bitten. The only problem is that Stiles is determined to hate every aspect of the chaperone period.

But Peter is a knowledgeable and engaging teacher, and he segues into these lessons as if they were nothing but dinner conversation between two friends. Stiles learns about the Great Reveal of 1903 over a plate of spaghetti; the North American Supernatural Counsel is dissected over tacos; they discuss the pros and cons of the Official Guild of Hunters over the very cheese plate Peter was saving.

It’s over dinner, about a two weeks in when Peter deviates from the formula. They had been discussing the Northwestern Alpha Congress when it happened.  
“You’re at Berkeley, right?” Peter asks, seemingly out of the blue. “You know, one of the first openly Supernatural Deans was at Berkeley.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” Stiles says carefully, wondering why Peter has changed the topic.

“What are you studying?”

Stiles pushes his plate of chicken away. “Was studying,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not currently studying anything, seeing as I’m here,” Stiles snips.

Peter sighs and sets down his wine glass. “You know, I thought we were making progress and getting along,” he says. “Was I wrong?”

Stiles can feel his cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment. “I mean, this has been nice,” Stiles coincides, gesturing at the table.

“Ah, so you want to keep things strictly business? If that’s what you want, that’s fine, but honestly it’s a little exhausting acting like a strange professor in my own home,” Peter says.

“What do you want to hear? That I’m still angry I was turned? That I missing class and losing out on valuable research time for my thesis?” Stiles ask, voice raising slightly.

“I don’t blame you, and you totally have a right to be mad––” Peter starts, but Stiles cuts him off.

“I mean, I was trying to do the right thing. Some jerks were cornering a girl from one of my classes, I didn’t even know her that well, but you can’t just watch something like that happen without doing anything.” It all comes spilling out, his voice wavering on hysterical. “So, I’m ready to call the cops if I need to, but I yell down the alley at them, and she manages to slip out the back side of the alley, but they’re pissed and they come at me. And the next thing I know I’m waking up in the hospital and I’m a fucking werewolf. And what was I supposed to do? Just let them get her?”

By the time Stiles finishes, hot frustrated tears are streaming down his face. He hasn’t talked about that night with anyone, outside of the very basic details, and he certainly hadn’t meant to tell Peter.

But Peter has dropped to his knees next to Stiles’ chair. He’s keeping his distance, but he’s placed a tentative hand on Stiles’ shoulder. As soon as Stiles notices he feels the comfort of the weight of the hand, and he feels some sort of other invisible comfort. Combined, the two feelings push him over the edge and he’s suddenly crying in Peter’s arms.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, but you did the right thing,” Peter says a few minutes later, when Stiles has calmed down a little. “Your life might be different now, but I get the feeling that you would have a hard time living with yourself if you had done nothing that night. I think you’d make the same call again.”

Stiles pulls back and wipes at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“You don’t have to be,” Peter assures. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“No, I mean, I’ve been a jerk to you,” Stiles says.

“Well, I won’t argue with you there,” Peter says with a smile.

Stiles laughs slightly, then sniffles again. “I am sorry,” he repeats.

“Apology accepted,” Peter says, then stands up and begins to clear the table.

Stiles takes his queue from Peter and they clean the kitchen up in companionable silence.

“Hey, Peter,” Stiles calls from his doorway later that night, as he’s about to head to bed.

Peter looks up from the book he’s reading.

“Supernatural history and lore,” Stiles says. “That’s what I’m studying.”

A wide smile spreads across Peter’s face. “You should explore my office some time,” he says, then looks back down at his book. “Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles lays awake for a long time thinking about the last few hours.

  
***

Peter does everything that he can think of to prepare Stiles for his first full moon. They’ve discussed the mechanics of it, talked about what the pull of the moon might feel like to him; they’ve been practicing breathing exercises and Stiles has picked the mantra that he will use if he feels like he’s losing control.

But no amount of work can really prepare someone for their first full moon, especially if that person is already an adult.

Stiles wakes up irritable. He’s restless and spends the whole day pacing around the apartment, getting annoyed any time Peter gets in his way. Peter doesn’t even bother with their normal routine; he lets Stiles work himself up in the hopes that after his first shift, he will be tried enough to pass out.

As the sun begins to set, Peter grabs the bag he’s prepared, and ushers Stiles into the car. The drive out to the preserve isn’t long, but Stiles seems like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

“Remember,” Peter says as they pull into the woods, “you may hear other wolves tonight, but the Hale Pack knows to keep their distance.”

Stiles just nods.

“I promise that I will be with you the whole time, and you’ll be fine,” Peter says.

“I’m not worried,” Stiles says, avoiding Peter’s gaze. “I’m probably going to be the best werewolf that you’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I bet,” Peter says with a smirk.

He likes this dynamic they’ve developed over the past week. It’s not familial, but it’s like they’ve skipped about 6 levels of friendship and landed on something most people only develop over years of friendship. Peter can’t explain it, but he likes it.

“I’ll be the Bella fucking Swan of werewolves,” Stiles states, pushing open the door and stumbling out.

“I hate that I know that reference,” Peter says with a growl.

“You love that you know that reference,” Stiles says. “How much longer until sunset?”

Peter checks his watch, “Official sunset is in about 7 minutes. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, dad, stop nagging.” Stiles sees Peter’s smirk widen and grimaces. “Ew. Stop.”

Peter just laughs, but all this has has the desired effect of getting Stiles even more relaxed as the daylight fades.

“You may start to feel––”

“Yeah, I do,” Stiles interrupts. “It’s like… It’s not like being drunk, but maybe like that buzzed feeling after your first drink?”

“Good. Lean into that feeling. The more you embrace it, the easier it will be,” Peter instructs.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, and Peter can tell that he’s already gone.

When they lock eyes, there are bright yellow eyes looking back at Peter.

  
***

  
It takes Stiles a minute to figure out where he is when he wakes up. He’s sore and feels like he was hit by a truck. And then he notices that he isn’t alone.

Stiles slowly raises his head and realizes that he’s in Peter’s room, in Peter’s bed, in fact. Peter is still fast asleep next to him, which makes Stiles feel… well, he isn’t sure what the feeling is but the closest he can get is that it makes him feel warm.

“Pack bond,” Peter mumbles against his pillow.

“Huh?” Stiles asks.

“You didn’t want to be left alone when we got back here last night. It’s one of the reasons why packs usually spend the full moons together,” Peter elaborates.

“Oh, right,” Stiles says, slightly thrown. He could have sworn for a second that Peter was reading his mind. “Does that mean we have a Pack bond?”

Peter props himself up on his arm and looks at Stiles. “We have the start of one, and by the end of our time together, I think something might be fully formed. But that doesn’t mean you’re stuck with me, or anything like that,” he says.

“You should be so lucky,” Stiles says instead of the million things that are running through his head.

Peter hmms and flops back down on his pillow. “It’s only been a few hours, we can discuss Pack bonds more later,” he says around a yawn.

Before Stiles can answer, Peter throws and arm over him and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

When Stiles wakes up again, he’s alone in Peter’s bed. He hardly feels sore at all, but he’s suddenly ravenous.

As he gets out of Peter’s bed, he realizes that he’s not wearing his own clothes, and that they must be Peter’s sweats. That thought gives him that same warm feeling.

“Peter?” Stiles calls as he heads into the kitchen and finds it empty.

“In here,” Peter calls from his office.

Stiles pokes his head in and stops short. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Something very minimalist and formal, maybe. But what he finds is floor to ceiling bookshelves, an antique desk, and a few overstuffed leather armchairs.

He takes a few steps into the room and stares at the tiles on the bookshelves. “Did I die?” he asks.

“I hope not, because then I’m dead, too,” Peter says.

“This is amazing. This isn’t an office; it’s a library. An amazing, wonderful library.” He hovers his hand over _A History of Fae in North America_. “May I?”

Peter smiles and nods, “Well, I do a lot of research.”

“Oh, really? You need all this as a lawyer?” Stiles asks, talking the seat as close to Peter as possible without really thinking about it.

“I specialize in pack disputes, which is one of the reasons I’m so well versed in supernatural history,” Peter explains.

“You jerk! I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me!” Stiles exclaims, but there’s no real heat behind his words.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you to wander in here for weeks now. I have more than enough material for you to continue your studies, and possibly things that you may never find in Berkeley’s library.”

“I can read any of these?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

“It’s all yours,” Peter says, waving his hand to the room.

“If you think that by pulling a Beauty and the Beast on me you’ll get me to…” Stiles trails off awkwardly.

“I promise I will not ask you to wear a golden gown, unless you’re into that sort of thing,” Peter says, letting Stiles off the hook.

“I’m holding you to that,” Stiles says, but he’s already a little distracted by the book.

  
***

After the first full moon, Stiles wandered into Peter’s bed again, and again, and after a few days, they both stopped pretending that Stiles was going to sleep in his room again.

They start each morning with control training, and now that Stiles has had his first shift, they also work on controlling his eyes, claws, and fangs, as well as his other senses. Then during the day Stiles immerses himself in Peter’s library, before they come back together for dinner.

Everything is going so smoothly that they hardly notice that two more full moons pass. But after each full moon, Peter finds that he and Stiles are getting closer and closer. Rationally he knows it’s the fledgling Pack bonds, but if he sometimes thinks it might be something more, then no one else needs to know.

Sometimes, when Stiles is deep in a book, Peter finds himself searching his memory for interactions they had when they were both younger, but he keeps coming up frustratingly short. All he can remember is that Stiles and Cora used to run in the same circles.

Needless to say, it comes as quite the surprise when Talia shows up at Peter’s place one afternoon.

“How are you, Alpha Hale?” Stiles asks when she enters the room.

“Very well, thank you. Stiles, would you give Peter and I minute to chat?” Talia says in her Alpha voice.

“You can go in the office,” Peter says, catching Stiles’ eye and nodding.

“Sure,” Stiles says, and makes his way down the hall.

“You know it’s not soundproofed,” Peter reminds Talia.

“I assume you’ve already taught him the etiquette of listening in on people’s conversations,” Talia returns.

“As fun as a visit from you is, dear sister, would you mind getting to the point.”

“I found a replacement,” Talia says, and Peter blinks at her in confusion. “To take Stiles in. You said you would only take him on a temporary basis, and that I needed to find someone else, and I have. Deucalion will take him.”

“No,” Peter says immediately. It’s a visceral reaction, his repulsion to picturing Stiles in Deucalion’s house.

“No?” Talia questions.

“I have no desire to rescind my role as Stiles’ chaperone.”

“Is that so?”

“We’re making great progress, and I think a change at this stage would cause backslide,” Peter says, but he can see that Talia isn’t buying any of it.

“It would be unusual to change chaperones at this stage,” she agrees. “But you were rather insistant.”

“And so I was,” Peter coincides. “But things have changed.”

“And so they have,” Talia says with a smile. “I guess if there are no arrangements to make, I’ll be on my way.”

Peter sighs and sits down on the couch as Talia sees herself out. A minute later, Stiles approaches and sits himself down awkwardly next to Peter.

“You didn’t want to take me in,” he says.

“Not in the least,” Peter confesses. “But you already knew that.”

Stiles nods and bites his lip. “But you sent her away.”

“Deucalion is an asshole,” Peter snaps. “You would get nothing from his training.”

“Ah,” Stiles says, studying Peter carefully. “I think you didn’t want me to go with someone else.”

“I have gotten use to you.”

“I think you like me.”

“You are tolerable.”

“I think you _like-like_ me.”

“What are we, twelve? Like-like, honestly,” Peter says in a mocking tone.

“You know, one of the things you haven’t taught me, but I learned from Scott?” Stiles asks conversationally. “I know to listen for your heartbeat.”

“Oh really?” Peter says, trying for casual.

“You like me,” Stiles repeats.

“Yes,” Peter says, heartbeat steady as a rock.

“I like you,” Stiles says.

“No skip,” Peter confirms.

“Can I kiss you now? Or is there some sort of rule against chaperones kissing––” Peter cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pushing him back onto the couch and covering Stiles with his own body.

Later when they are in bed together wrapped in the sheets and each other, Stiles whispers into the dark, “What am I supposed to do when my 6 months are over?”

“Why should that matter?” Peter asks.

“Well, I’ll want to go back to grad school,” Stiles says. “And that’s not in Beacon Hills.”

“Stiles, do you know why things have been so easy since that first night?”

“The Pack bonds,” Stiles guesses.

“That’s part of it, but not all. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t realized it yet, but I’m your anchor,” Peter says, and Stiles gasps.

“You’re my––”

“And your my anchor,” Peter continues.

“I thought you would have already had an anchor,” Stiles asks, confused.

“I haven’t had another person as my anchor since I was a kid, instead I always just the whole Pack as my anchor. But I realized it on the second full moon; both of us way more calm and collected that we should have been without an anchor.”

“What’s your point?” Stiles huffs in annoyance.

“My point, sweetheart, is that this is more than just liking each other. If we want this, we have it, and if that is here or in Berkeley or wherever, I’ll be there,” Peter says.

“Promise?” Stiles asks.

“You can already hear my heart,” Peter says, pressing a kiss on the side of Stiles’ mouth. “I promise.”

And so he did.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
